


Lend a Helping Wing

by an_angel_on_earth



Category: DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Because we stan a legend, Bisexual Dick Grayson, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spyral, Trans Dick Grayson, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_angel_on_earth/pseuds/an_angel_on_earth
Summary: Dick Grayson has to face the truth: he's alive, and hopefully he'll continue to be. Well, the world thinks that he's dead, after having his identity revealed and faking his own death. That's a bit of a bummer, seeing as he's very much alive for now. But between becoming Agent 37 and infiltrating the international spy ring Spyral, accidentally falling for the handsome and stoic Agent 1, and having to go on an undercover mission in San Diego with him, he's got to figure out what he wants to do with his life.For the amazing octoaliencowboy and their social worker dick au!It's pretty heavily unedited so if anyone sees any mistakes, feel free to let me know





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [octoaliencowboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoaliencowboy/gifts).

> Lemme just say, as a trans dude, I love the idea of Dick Grayson being trans. And yes, I do plan on figuring out what the heck I actually want to tag this fic as.  
This fic is based off of octoaliencowboy's tumblr, where I first found the idea of Dick becoming a social worker. I immediately latched onto it like some sort of deranged gremlin, which is kind of understandable. Go check them out if you haven't already, they have really good fics and art!  
Comments and kudos are always appreciated, as I thrive off of any and all validation <3 And if anyone sees anything wrong or just wants to help me edit, that's also cool with me! I've edited some, but not a lot, and everything still probably needs a lot of work.

Dick used to not think of the future. He just thought that he'd continue to be Nightwing, fight some more, and eventually he'd end up dying in the line of duty. And hopefully, they wouldn't try to bring him back. He had become a cop because he thought it was the right thing to do, because that was the only way he thought he could help others. Because it's what Bruce had suggested he do, it was something he could actually do and do well, and probably continue doing without any difficulty until he’d inevitably have to leave.  
Now, he realized: he was probably going to live past his 30's. And yeah, technically, he had died. He had to, his identity was revealed and so the only solution they had seen was to have him fake his own death. Which of course, led to Bruce giving him another mission. At the time, he had accepted, because it's what Bruce told him to. Join an international spy ring for the sole reason of the man who dresses up as a bat and punches criminals tells you too. Dick never claimed to have the best logic.  
And working for Spyral was... well, it wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worse. It was draining, that's for sure. Dick had always been someone who needed physical contact, who needed to talk and be by someone's side in order to feel truly whole. Working with a bunch of super spies didn't offer much opportunities for any of that. He reported back to Bruce and the others, but that was professional and in code. There was no comfort to be found in Spyral. At first, the most he got was working with Midnighter, who's endless flirting could almost make up for the fact that Dick felt truly alone. Almost.  
Then he met Tiger, and holy shit, he had never felt more longing in his life. It took a while to realize that he was in love with them, the always stoic and serious man who also happened to be, oh yeah, actually the top agent at Spyral. Not that crushing on a dude was unusual, he had been through that before. Roy Harper, Wally West, he basically just crushed on every redhead he saw. And sure, Tiger called him an idiot all the time, and was basically almost the exact opposite of Dick on the outside, but he could tell that on the inside, he cared. Dick had a way of sensing people like that, and it was probably that which made him like Tiger so much.  
It was on a nice late summer morning that the previous mentioned revelation hit him like a bag of bricks. Or as Jason probably would joke, like a crowbar. And he couldn’t pinpoint why at the moment, as he was still half asleep and trying to wake up, but it crushed him. He’d probably have a future, and he had been fighting for almost all of his life. He didn’t want to have to spend the rest of it doing the same exact thing. It was only around five in the morning according to his alarm clock though, it was too early to be thinking like this. He could wait until later to force himself to have an existential crisis.  
Another day of loneliness and having to pretend that he liked the thought of going on the mission that Matron had been hinting at all of yesterday. That sounded super fun. Soundlessly, he tugged on his binder, slipping into a pair of sweatpants. As long as he was staying at St. Hadrian’s, he might as well make use of the gymnasium. It wasn’t even that far from his room, if he went out of the window instead of actually walking through the halls. Since the girls weren’t allowed to roam before seven, and Matron usually didn’t have briefings before then, he could get almost a full two hours of exercise in if he left now. Better than nothing, although not as good as the equipment in the Batcave.  
Warm ups came first, stretching for a while before using the floor to practice his flips, running around and spinning through the air, hands moving like he was still armed with his escrima sticks and dodging imaginary villains. It was different than on the bars or on rings. Nothing to hold on to, nothing to support you once you were up in the air. Granted, it wouldn’t hurt as much if he fell than if he fell onto concrete or from up high, but it’d still hurt his pride.  
He messed around on the balance beams for a while as well, cartwheeling and doing some more difficult tricks. Training to be able to do a backflip on one of these was hell when he was starting, but he’d been doing it for so long now that it was almost second nature. It was a balancing act, making sure not to lean too far to one side. As he had said before, you had to be straight, so it was the one time he was good at that. The other batboys had groaned at his joke, but he thought it was great.  
Now, the bars, that he was a god at. He had practically been raised on a trapeze since he could walk, and his training only intensified when he got started as Robin. If he wanted to, he could probably put an olympic athlete to shame with his skills. Not that he’d ever want the trouble of competing in such a huge event. That would be way too much of a hassle to deal with. Beating up bad guys, though, he could do that easily. He eyed the parallel bars as he walked past, but skipped past them for now. Going for the highest bar they had was a lot more fun.

“Having fun, Dick Grayson?” Missing a beat was never good, not when he was spinning around and currently not holding on to the bar. Luckily for him, there was a mat ready to break his fall, and he wasn’t hurt when he landed on his back. Unluckily, Tiger was the one to distract him, and had seen everything. And was currently holding out a hand to help Dick up to his feet. Great start to the morning.  
He accepted the help, if only to be able to hold onto Tiger’s hand for a second. God, he really had it bad. For once, he didn’t have a witty retort, which really would have helped with the way the larger man was glaring at him. “Yeah, uh, loads of fun. Normally I stick the landing, though. Uh, can I help you with anything?”  
“You shouldn’t be wearing that while working out.” Dick followed Tiger’s eyes, realizing as he spoke that he was looking at his binder. He really ought to have put something on over it, but to be fair, usually there wasn’t anyone else at the gym this early.  
Of course, Tiger already knew he was trans. Practically all of Spyral knew, it wasn’t like a secret had come out. But there was something in his eyes that made Dick want to pull away, to do what he usually does and deflect the focus to a different topic with a bad joke. Instead, all that comes out is a small “I know, I know, it’s bad for my ribs.”  
Money wasn’t an issue. If he wanted to, he could get the best surgeon in the world for top surgery. It was the fact that it’d put him out of commission for a while that kept him from making the call. Dick couldn’t sit still, even with all the support he could get back at home. He’d never get through the days of not being able to do anything. Bruce had agreed when he had voiced that concern, further driving in the idea that it would just be something that would have to wait. And wait, and wait, and then wait some more. Fortunately, he didn’t have much to begin with. Midnighter had once said that he had gotten a perfect ass instead. At least he could laugh at that when it was a joke.  
“Grayson, you’re an idiot. You have to put your health first. As your new partner, I have to insist that you not do anything to jeopardize the next mission.”  
“As my what now?” Oh boy, that sure ruined his morning. As far as he knew now, he was stuck working with a dude who didn’t like him and who he liked, presumably until Matron let them change partners, one of them died, or one of them left Spyral. All of those weren’t very likely.  
“Matron didn’t tell you? She must be waiting until the briefing to let you know. Speaking of which, you should get ready soon. It’s at eight today, and you could use a shower.” At last, Tiger backed off, moving to the floor to get in some of his own exercise. Dick stared for a few seconds before catching himself, trying to rid himself on the unwanted tension by opting to leave as quick as he could.  
The shower was nice, washing away the sweat and grime from the morning’s workout and the run he had taken last night. Dick kept the lights down low as he always did, wrapping himself in a towel as soon as he stepped out. Once he was dry, he put on his Spyral uniform, cursing the fact that all the straps had gotten tangled up. It was like earbuds,He hesitated before shoving his gun into the holster now situated around his thigh. And he got halfway out the door before remembering to grab his ID from the nightstand, mentally cursing himself for getting distracted still thinking about Tiger.  
With a little bit of time left to kill before the briefing, he opened up the news on his phone as he walked, hoping that none of the St. Hadrian’s girls had decided to sneak around in the morning. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if they saw him in the halls. There were a handful of students who were obsessed with him, and he shuddered at the thought. Turning back to the screen, he scrolled past the irrelevant celebrity stories. Maybe Bruce was doing something stupid again, that’d put a smile on his face. And how were the others doing?

“We believe that someone, possibly related to Mother or to the God Garden or possibly just a common criminal, has been preying on troubled teens in San Diego. Agent 37, Agent 1, you’ll be going undercover for this mission. Locate the subject and attempt to get close to them before taking them out, as well as try to prevent them from continuing their activities. Your cover story is that you’re two men moving to the city who know each other from college, so you’ve decided to get a house together and split the cost.” Was Matron trying to kill him? He was being forced to be roommates with the guy that he liked. That was just cruel.  
Frau Netz handed the two spies a folder each, which they accepted as she spoke. “Agent 1, we’ll arrange for you to work as an assistant librarian at the school most of the victims went to. Agent 37, you’ll get a job as a social worker and met with teens like the ones who have been targeted and gather intel that way.” At least it was a better cover story than a gay gymnastics teacher, that one had just been humiliating.  
“How long is the mission?” Dick asked, peeking at the papers in the folder. Forged identification, which was rather nicely done. He took a look at the name, Liam Fowler. A last name that means bird trapper, nice and ironic. He wondered who picked it out. Sneaking a glance at Tiger’s papers, he could make out the first name before he looked back at Matron. Amir, that sounded nice.  
“Hopefully, it shouldn’t take too long. At minimum, though, a month, just to keep appearances. Don’t worry, we’ll arrange for the extract to be as soon as possible once you take out the suspect. Your flight leaves in five hours, and you’ll leave to go to the airport in one and a half. We can upload the main details of the mission and your identities through the Hypnos implants, however you ought to work on memorizing the minor details.”  
With the meeting over, Matron and Frau Netz went back to their work, and Tiger and Dick exited together. “So, did Matron let you in on the fact we’d be together for a month before the meeting, Amir?” Dick asked, hoping that he had read Tiger’s paper right. If he got the name wrong that’d just be embarrassing.  
To both of their credit, Tiger responded to the fake name. “She did not. If she had, I would have asked if anyone else could be assigned to the mission.” Oh boy, here comes another comment about how he’s an idiot.  
“You don’t think I can handle being a social worker? I’ve bonded with a kid raised to be an assassin, I think I can pull this off. I just have to turn up the charm, except this time it’s not because I need to seduce someone. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Judging by the look on his face, Tiger hadn’t heard that expression before. Dick was going to keep on saying that now just to see it piss him off.  
“Go pack, Dick. I don’t wish to be late because you were an idiot.” There it was! Dick smiled, almost laughing at how predictable Tiger was.  
He turned to walk back to his room, going the opposite direction as Tiger. “Don’t forget, it’s Liam now! I don’t want my cover to be blown because you were an idiot.” he called out, turning his head to see how Tiger would respond. He looked angry, and Dick picked up the pace.  
Pulling his duffle bag out from under the bed, Dick began to pack in a hurry, taking Tiger’s words to heart. A week’s worth of clothes so that he’d have some time to buy some more, a nicer looking outfit in case he needed it, wrapping his escrima sticks in a sweater so they wouldn’t get damaged. His gun got tucked away in the corner against his better judgement. Flying with Spyral means not having to worry about metal detectors, he’d get away with all of this. He also got his briefcase from where he had shoved it in his closet to take as a carry on, following a text from Matron.  
For the third time that day, he changed, putting on some simple jeans and a Batman shirt he had bought a little while ago, right around when he first started working at Spyral. He was pretty sure all of the other Batkids owned at least one, in addition to the tons of superhero merch they’d all buy just to annoy Bruce. Considering it had been really cheap, it was comfy and fit nicely. His binder went into his bag, having quickly learned that it put way too much pressure on his lungs when flying. He could just change out of the sports bra he wore instead in an airport bathroom once they landed.  
Throwing his Spyral uniform into the bag, he started flipping through the papers he was given. Fake college degrees, fake identification, everything he’d need to become a fake person. Liam Fowler had gotten a degree in social work, Amir Nasri had gotten a teaching degree and minored in psychology. He’d be expected to work in an office in a mental health clinic, which bored him, but apparently he could also do some work from their house. Tiger was just going to be an assistant at the school while pretending to be looking for a college level position. As expected, they’d have to figure out household duties by themselves, which was fine with him. At least they didn’t have to share a bedroom, Dick would probably die inside if it came to that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! This chapter doesn't have a lot of action or anything, but it definitely keeps the trend of taking a look into Dick's mind, and I think it's still pretty good. You get to meet one of probably many PTA mom type characters so that's fun. Kinda of cuts off in an awkward place if you ask me and I'll try to get chapter three out as quick as I can. However, I probably won't be writing during November since I'm attempting NaNoWriMo again, but I'm going to try to get an additional chapter written during October so I'd still be able to update. I make no guarantees on anything.

The car ride to the airport was spent in tense silence. Tiger wasn’t talking, and Dick wasn’t about to risk his anger by trying to say something. The two agents just kept to themselves, at least one of them going over the details. That would be Dick, he had no idea what Tiger was doing. He also spent a fair amount of his time worrying. He had sent a message to the others saying that he was going undercover for a mission, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to send any more messages, but if he got a chance he’d send them a letter in code to one of the safe houses.  
It was better once they got to the airport, now surrounded by people. Although, Dick did catch himself slipping into one of the exercises he’d do during times like this. Looking for details in the travellers passing by, and recognizing what they mean. A young man he saw buying a ticket was wearing a hat earlier, or maybe he rode a motorcycle here. The older one in front of him in line to check his baggage had a mark on his finger from a ring, and swollen joints, either just got divorced, is cheating, or doesn’t want to wear it at an airport, and does a lot of typing and writing. A lady who walked by was obviously trained as a ballerina from the way that she walked. This game was something he used to do when he was younger, like during the boring galas Bruce would take him to. Simpler times by far.  
Spyral certainly made it easy to get into anywhere, planes included. The fake passports worked like a charm, which isn’t surprising. Hypnos implants sucked at times, like being knocked out with just a word, but when Dick could use them properly, they were pretty handy. No worry about the photos not matching up with how they looked. The workers wouldn’t be able to see him or remember his face. And it was almost too easy to get their carry ons through the metal detector. He had Frau Netz to thank for that.   
The walk to the gate wasn’t too bad, he’d had longer ones. He tried to get Tiger to stop at the various restaurants along the way only to be rejected each time. He compromised by deciding to go the stores once they got their seats. At one point, though, he did do a double take as they passed a vending machine full of medicine. He snapped a photo and promised himself to share it with Bruce just to joke that they ought to have something like that in the batcave. He’d do that for sure, if he ever returned to Gotham.

“Just these, thanks.” The clerk at the store, the one with the lowest prices Dick could find, quickly rang up his purchases. A bag of cheez-its, a pack of watermelon gum, and a couple of trashy magazines. They didn’t say anything, but glanced down at Dick’s shirt. It had been one of the first shirts he got after starting at Spyral, a yellow bat on his chest to remind him of where he came from and why he was there. The cashier’s look of confusion was understandable. They were in England, and even with Batman operating as part of the Justice League he’d be a lot less known here than in the US. Sliding the money across, he didn’t bother waiting for his change before speeding back to where Tiger was keeping their seats.   
Tiger spared him a glance, looking disapprovingly at his bag before returning to his phone. Probably texting Matron about their progress, Dick would guess. Although he’s probably the type of person to play word games. He’d insist that it was good for the brain. That’s why Dick got so many murder mystery games all the time. Or at least, that’s the way he tried to justify it to Alfred once.  
“How much time do we have left?” There was a clock he could look at if he turned slightly to the left, but bothering Tiger was a lot more fun.  
“Half an hour.” Damn, Dick thought he’d kill a lot more time browsing the stores. “If you need something to do, how about you study what you’ll actually be doing during the mission and not annoy me?”  
“They said that the hypnos should be able to upload some basics directly to our minds, there’s not really any need. Maybe if you had read through the files, you’d know that.”  
“It happens three hours into the flight. I have been looking through everything, while you’ve been goofing off. I’m saying that you might want to know more than just the basics, especially since I believe it is actually a job you could do. We must focus on our mission, and if the suspect realizes that something doesn’t add up, that will look suspicious. It will look even more off if you can’t do your job correctly. Undercover missions have gone wrong over less.”  
Dick knew how dangerous missions were. The regular ones, the ones where they just get sent in to beat up some bad guys, those were the easiest ones. And agents still got hurt, still got killed despite all of their training. Same with smaller undercover investigations. Going to galas and charity events just to gather intel or steal something carried its own risk. But the longer undercover missions, those were the worse. Minimal communication with Spyral, constant vigilance, being so far away from everything you’ve known and having to pretend to be someone you’re not for so long. Not to mention the web of lies you could get caught in. He was just lucky that they were sending him to infiltrate a suburban community and not a rival organization.  
Espionage had no room for error. No room for any mistakes, missteps, or other failures. Everything had to be meticulous and planned. Which tended to get Dick in a lot of trouble when he’d deviate from his instructions. Then again, he had also done pretty good sticking with his no killing rule, despite what Tiger would say, even when the plan would have him go against it.   
Fortunately, the time passed by faster than Dick would have expected, helped by the fact that he actually started reading some articles on how to be a better social worker that he pulled up on his phone. They were rather interesting, and he got sucked into a thread about trans teenagers. Man, if only he had had something like that to show to Bruce when he told him that he was trans. Might have made the whole process a lot smoother.  
They were sitting together in rows two seats deep, meaning Dick claimed the window seat before Tiger could try to make a rational decision about who would sit where. He liked being able to see the world from up high, so sue him. Whether it was leaping off buildings or flying in the Batplane, there was something about being up high with only the open air below you that excited Dick. The risk of falling, the joy of flying, the comfort in knowing that airplanes were actually really safe. Unless it was in Gotham. Nothing in Gotham was ever safe.   
All in all, it wasn’t that bad of a flight. It wasn’t first class like when he’d fly with Bruce, but there was plenty of room for his legs. The fact that he didn’t have a big bag helped. There were screens for each seat, and Dick started watching the first rom-com he could find. Tiger looked disappointed in him. Dick didn’t laugh at the look on his face, but only for the sake of the people around him. At least he was able to see when halfway through the flight, Tiger started using his screen to do crosswords. So he was the type of person to like word games! Dick had totally called it.  
Two rom-coms, one action movie, an in-flight dinner, and a couple hours of trying to sleep later, the plane touched down in sunny California. Or rather, slightly raining California. For Matron and the girls at St. Hadrian’s, it would be midnight. Here, it was four in the afternoon, and apparently still nice out despite the clouds. Nothing like the Gotham atmosphere Dick had grown up in.  
They met with their driver, and neither missed the small Spyral logo in the corner of the sign he held. Or the way he was built, looking more like a quarterback than a delivery man. People can have two jobs, Dick rationalized. For example, he was a vigilante and a super spy. Who’s to say that someone couldn’t do sports and do something else? Not everyone they met would actually be an agent. Not everyone, he repeated to himself, trying to chant it like a mantra, like it could do anything to calm the paranoia and suspicion that had lodged itself in his head. Old habits die hard, kept him from dying young, created a nightmare inside his mind.  
Much like the ride to the airport, they spent the ride to their new house in silence. Mostly because no matter how many times either of them had to go on a mission, they’d always be nervous. Dick might like flying, but when he was flying blind, he would never be able to tell if he was going to crash. Tiger was Agent 1, the best there is, but even the best could get hurt.   
According to the plan, they were to meet with the real estate agent who had sold them the house online. She’d hand over the keys and any paperwork, welcome them, congratulate them on their purchase. Standard behavior. Dick figured he’d turn up the charm, see if she knows anything more about the neighborhood. So long as she didn’t catch on to the fact that they’ve never actually spoken before, it’d be fine.   
Sure enough, there was a car already parked in the driveway of the house, along with the two that Spyral had arranged for. The driver pulled up besides it, unlocking the doors and fetching the bags from the backseat. Dick and Tiger exited, both already scanning the area. Fenced in backyard (going to be a pain to jump over all the time), lots of nearby houses (people could watch through windows), a nice looking lawn with plenty of bushes (a person could be concealed behind). And a woman with a blond bob walking down from the front steps, carrying a glass of champagne with her.  
“You must be Mr. Fowler and Mr. Nasri. I’m Cathy, the agent who spoke with you online. I have to say, it’s impressive that you were willing to buy before coming to see the lot. And may I be the first to welcome you to the neighborhood!” She passed the glass to Dick, who didn’t think to check for poison before taking a small sip. It’s not like a middle aged lady who looks like a PTA mom would try to kill him in broad daylight. He was just thankful that evidently she had been told enough to know that Tiger doesn’t drink.   
“Thank you very much, Cathy. And please, just call me Liam. Say, are you from around here?” Alright, time to start turning on the famous Dick Grayson charm. Which is hard when he’s going by a terrible fake name. It’s almost like Matron wanted him to suffer.  
Cathy smiled, teeth almost unnaturally white. “Oh, I live further down the street. I was friends with the previous owners. It’s a bit sad to see them go, but at least you two are such a nice couple to take their place.”  
Dick almost spat out his champagne. “Oh, we’re not dating. We’re just good friends from college, you see. I would never go for a man like Liam. He’s... well, he’s an idiot.” Nice save from Tiger. Although, he did make one mistake, he left himself open to another witty retort.  
“Right, right. Remind me, who’s the one who microwaved the silverware after staying up for two nights to study? I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t me.” That was inspired by Tim, naturally. The boys had a list of everything he’s ever done out of sleep deprivation. There was also that time he put both salt and pepper in his coffee and drank the whole cup in under a minute. Although that one was actually more terrifying than anything.  
“Well, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve got to get to a meeting at my daughter’s school. Here’s your copies of the keys, and here’s all the paperwork. I’d recommend making some copies of it just in case. The west coast tends to get a lot of earthquakes, it’s always nice to be prepared. If you need anything, give me a call and I’ll help out the best I can.” With a wave, she walked to her car, pulling out of the driveway and heading towards the left.  
Picking up his bag and briefcase with one arm and still holding his glass with the other, Dick looked at Tiger. “Let’s see what Spyral got us!” he remarked, loud enough to show his excitement but quiet enough that anyone else wouldn’t be able to hear him. Without waiting for Tiger to grab any of his belongings, Dick was slipping past him and heading through the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy halloween! The treat is the new chapter, the trick is that it's mostly just filler. No worries, there's more action picking up in the next chapter. Look out for the foreshadowing! There's a hint about something that's going to happen later, and it's the type of something that's big and bad and hurts our characters ;) I love writing this ;)  
Hopefully, nanowrimo shouldn't mess with my schedule too much. I've got chapter 4 written, and I'm working on chapter 5, but that might have to wait until after november ends.  
As always, call me out on any editing mistakes, I've been busy prepping for nano so I didn't edit as much as I should.

The house was nice, just bare without any furniture. They’d have to wait until it was delivered the next day. At least Spyral had a really good cellular network. And if that failed, well, there was always Sprint or Xfinity or something he could buy. The perks of being funded by an international spy ring and partially by a billionaire. Too bad he couldn’t use Bruce’s network though. It’s superfast, unless Jason decides to fuck with Tim or Babs and tries to break it.   
The living room was nice, walls painted a light grey-ish blue. Dick liked the color, and if Tiger didn’t, then too bad. They would only be here for a month, not nearly long enough to bother themselves with repainting. They’d have much more important business to keep them busy. He’d actually have a job, that was unusual. Usually he just pretended to have one.  
Fortunately, the kitchen still had appliances. Microwave, stovetop, and an oven, all that they’d need. That being said, he’d still try to persuade Tiger to let him order take out. There had to be some place close enough to deliver, right? What quickly caught his attention was a plate of cookies on the counter, a note saying that it had been dropped off by their neighbors at number 63. This time, Dick resisted the urge to dig in until he could test them for poisons. They were officially undercover, and couldn’t afford to trust anyone.  
“I’d assume the neighbors will start coming over soon.” Tiger caught up to Dick right as he was going to look at the downstairs bathroom. “We should start going over what we already know before anyone arrives.”  
“What is there to talk about? No one knows what the suspect looks like, all we know is that there’s been teens going missing around once a week. Ten in all. They’re said to be bad kids who got messed up in something bad, but others say that they were just troubled and actually nice. Apart from age and personality, we’ve got nothing to go off of.” Dick tried to keep his tone light, but he couldn’t hide the rage that he felt. They were kids, they were just kids trying to get through life and they were being either taken or killed by some asshole who might even be working for a human trafficking ring. No one should have to go through that.  
Tiger looked over at him, not with a disdainful look like he usually did, but with something that looked more like curiosity. “You care deeply about this case.” he finally stated, as Dick tested the water from the sink. It worked, that was good enough.  
“Of course I do. If my life had been different, then I could be just like them. I could have been all alone after my family was killed. Instead, I was lucky, and was taken in by the Bat himself. And then-” He could have gone on, could have ranted for hours about his childhood. How Bruce raised him to be a soldier, to be paranoid and vigilante and fight. How he had wanted to learn it at first, but then realized the toll it had taken on him, how he would never be able to forget any of the lessons. But he didn’t.   
Emotions are what got people killed. That was one of the first lessons he learned. Rage made you hasty, grief made you slow or reckless, confidence made you foolish. You couldn’t feel anything if you wanted to survive as a vigilante. Bruce was good at that, he could separate his emotions, separate being Bruce Wayne and Batman. But Dick, oh god, not being able to feel anything would kill him. He felt so much, his brain was a storm of emotions. He couldn’t just not care.  
It was silent for a while, his words hanging in the air between the two spies. He wasn’t sure what to say, if he should say anything at all, and Tiger usually didn’t say anything whenever there was an awkward tension. After it got too tense, Dick slipped past him, darting up the stairs to get to the second floor. A second of deliberation later, Tiger followed.  
The floor plan was exactly what he had expected. Two bedrooms, a shared bathroom with a shower, nothing out of the ordinary. After admiring the color choice (the previous owners had painted the bathroom a nice shade of green that Tiger actually liked) and remarking on the drop down door that led to the small attic space, they did a quick check for hidden cameras. Tiger turned off the lights as Dick grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight and shining it around the walls. No red lights, so unless they’d only show up once they got around to using Spyral tech to search the place, there were no hidden cameras to be found.  
Dick had already seemed to stake his claim on the room to the left, rushing downstairs so he could haul his duffle bag up. That left Tiger to take the one on the right, closer to the stairs. First to be reached if someone broke in through the door or the windows downstairs, but closer to the stairs if he had to leave in a hurry and further away from the hallway window. The fact that those were his concerns should be worrying if he was anyone else, but that was just the way he was raised.  
“You wanna make the murder board, or should I?” Dick joked, grabbing the bag of newspaper clippings, pictures, and other records that Helena had given him. “I was thinking we could set it up in the attic, I doubt anyone else would go up there and there’s no windows for anyone to break into it.”  
“You can do that while I go and get us some groceries.” Tiger was already making a list in his head. Vegetables, eggs, milk, check what Dick likes and don’t get him anything too sugary. He at least wanted to try to stay healthy. “What do you like to eat?” Did any of the nearby grocery stores carry halal meat?  
“I’ll eat anything if I’m hungry enough. Uh, cereal is good! Pizza too, although nothing can beat Gotham pizza. I used to eat a lot of fancy meals when I still lived with the Bat, can’t remember what any of them were. Mostly I just eat whatever’s cheapest or I still have in my fridge.”  
Tiger amended his list. He knew that Dick had a rather bad diet, such was the life of a vigilante/cop/now Spyral agent. To be far, whenever they were at St. Hadrian’s, they got to eat the same food that was served in the cafeteria, which did actually make an effort to be healthy and taste good. But back when Dick was Nightwing, spending all his time either working as a cop or patrolling and getting into fights, Tiger didn’t think he’d have paid much attention to what he was putting in his body. As long as it kept him from dying of hunger, Dick wouldn’t care what it was.   
The keys to the cars that Spyral had gotten for them were hanging by the door, and Tiger grabbed the top one. Man, they really thought of everything. Before he headed out, however, he grabbed a pen and sat down to make an actual list. And promptly got distracted by the doorbell ringing.  
Before he could get to the door, Dick was there, smoothing out his clothes and hair before opening the door with a smile. Two women stood on the steps, one holding a bag of something green. As Tiger stepped closer, he realized they were actually some sort of vegetable. Maybe he’d be able to use them in tonight’s dinner.  
“Hi there! I’m Isabel, this is my wife Julia. We just wanted to be the first, besides Cathy, to welcome you to the neighborhood! We brought you some zucchini, we’ve got a really large garden and neither of us could have baked anything.” Julia handed Dick the bag, who handed it off to Tiger, who set it down on the kitchen counter.  
“Well, thank you very much! I’m Liam Fowler, and this is my friend from college, Amir. If you’d like to come in, we’re not getting our furniture until tomorrow, so we don’t have any chairs or couches or anything, but standing inside might be better than standing outside.”  
Isabel looks over at Julia, who seems to consider the offer before declining. “Thank you, but we just came over to say hello quickly. We ought to be going, we both have work to do at home. Perhaps later, when we have some free time, and you have some furniture.”  
“I look forward to it.” Dick waved as the ladies left, facing Tiger once he shut the door. “Well, not our killer. Relaxed, friendly, none of them tried anything suspicious. Unless you think their vegetable garden might have some traces of poison, of course.”  
Tiger sighed. “Just do your job, agent, and I’ll do mine. And get us some food. Try not to mess up while I’m gone.”  
“You should know me better than that, Tiger. I can never make any promises.”

There’s a store five minutes from the house, according to the car’s GPS. Tiger makes the drive in seven, as he slows down to look at the stores that he passes. There’s a hairdresser, a craft store, a hardware store, everything you’d expect to find in a small suburban town.  
Dick would be impressed at how he makes small talk with the workers and other customers. While he finds it boring and tedious, it is a rather good way to get information. In just a few minutes, he’s learned what brands are the best, what meats he’d be able to eat, and how the coupon system works. He signs up for a card against his better judgement, rattling off the email address and phone number Matron had given him to use. It gets him better savings, and while Spyral would give them money, officially they only had Dick’s salary as a social worker. Which probably isn’t a lot.  
When he gets back to the house, jazz music is blasting from somewhere upstairs. With a shout of “Grayson, I’m back!” he puts the groceries away, organizing the fridge and knowing that it probably won’t stay that way for long. He bought organic chocolate cereal, surely that’d be good enough to get Grayson to eat it. It’s healthier than a lot of the other brands that filled the aisle. All rainbow colors and terrifying mascots and way too much chemicals.  
The music stops, and he can barely hear Dick’s footsteps as he descends. He certainly sees him when he rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. “Did you also get pans and plates? It’s gonna be hard to cook otherwise.” Without a word, Tiger places the silverware set on the counter, then the plates, then the pans. He had almost forgotten, actually, but remembered right as he was going to drive back. There was a kitchen store not to far away, and he was able to buy everything quickly. It was easy when he didn’t care about what he was actually buying.  
“Did you finish your project?” he asks, and Dick nods as he goes to sit on the countertop. Leaning over, Tiger pushes him off, hiding his amused grin at the way he momentarily flails around. For an acrobat, Dick wasn’t exactly graceful that time. He’d say that it was because he wasn’t expecting an attack from a fellow Spyral agent and laugh it off. If he was drunk or actually being honest, he’d probably admit that it’s because he was shocked that Tiger was acting friendly.   
“Yeah, the murder board’s all set. You wanna do some investigation around the town tonight, or tomorrow? It’s not like we’ve got any beds or anything, cause apparently that part was poorly planned.” Dick was only half joking about that last part. He could generally fall asleep anywhere, after training with Bruce for so long. With so many long nights spent patrolling, he learned quickly how to make the most out of any down time. Of course, Tim held the unofficial record. Serious, how sleep deprived do you have to be to fall asleep on a moving roller coaster?  
Tiger thinks for a moment. “Tonight. The sooner we can get everything done, the better. If we split up, we can cover more ground. I assume it doesn’t have the villain problem that Gotham does.” He doesn’t add on any more. He could have said that even if there is a problem here, that Dick shouldn’t try to be Nightwing anymore, because Nightwing died, that he should focus on being Agent 37 and shoving aside his natural compassion. Not being able to help anyone would kill Dick more than leaving his home behind ever could.  
The rest of the time actually goes by faster now that they have somewhat of a plan. Dinner is delicious, even if they eat on the floor. Dick played an episode of some dumb American show on his phone, and Tiger actually tried to follow along for a few minutes. He gave up quickly. Then Dick cleans up while Tiger takes a look at his work. It’s quite well thought out, neatly organized and arranged. That’s what you get when you live and work with a bunch of vigilantes for most of your life. Random skills like how to set up a “murder board” that no normal person would ever need.  
Ten teens gone missing, the only connection being their age and the fact that they were called “troubled”. Different locations, both where they lived and where they were last seen, which Dick had pinned on a map and color coordinated. Different races, different genders, the biggest connection being that seven went to the same school. The same one that he’d start working at soon. Hopefully, he’d be able to stop any more teens from being abducted. He had to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is heavily unedited! I've been really busy with NaNoWriMo. Over 30k words in two weeks is pretty impressive though. I think my story's looking at being around 80k if I actually finish it. Anyone know anywhere I could post it besides tumblr?  
All that asides, enjoy the next chapter! Less filler this time, that's good. There's still a bit, but definitely not as much as chapter 2 or 3.

They change into their Spyral uniforms again, Dick bringing up a picture of the map on his phone. “Four kids were last seen on the west side, which has the school, and six on the east. Which one do you want to take?”  
Tiger buckles his vest, tightening the straps so it fits snugly. “More of them lived on the west though. I’ll search the east then, you’re better suited for getting through residential areas undetected. And we can search the school together since that’s our best lead. Head to the most recent case first, better chances you’ll find evidence.”  
“Don’t worry. This is far from my first rodeo. And Matron and other agents will probably be looking on through our hypnos. Should I bag evidence so we can collect it, or put in an anonymous tip to the police?” Dick checked the battery level on his escrima sticks, lighting them up for a moment before he puts them away, placing them in the holders on his back. Throwing them was good and all, but shocking people came in handy. His gun is still on the kitchen table, and Tiger frowns.  
“You should take it with you.” he says, giving Dick a little nudge with his elbow.  
Dick looks where Tiger’s looking, knowing at once what’s making him so unhappy. “I don’t use guns.” he replies, plain and simple. Tiger knows that he has his rules. No killing, no guns, nothing that would go against his strong sense of morality after being brought up by the Bat.   
“Grayson, I know you have your ideals. But just in case, you should take it along. I don’t want another agent to be hurt while I’m working with them.” The death of Agent 8 was still fresh in his mind. When Dick hesitates, Tiger picks up the gun, moving to his knees and putting it in the other man’s holster. “Having a gun doesn’t make you a killer. A knife can also kill, but they have plenty of other uses. You can use it without killing anyone. Take the gun.” His tone didn’t invite any more conversation.  
Dick relented, and the two snuck out of their own back door. Couldn’t have the new neighbors seeing any of this. They went their separate ways soon after, Dick heading to the west and Tiger taking the east. Search for evidence without being caught, that was something they could practically do in their sleep. Well, Dick could, at least. Tiger was better at hiding evidence when he’s the one committing the crime.  
“Can you hear me?” Their communication devices were a lot more finicky than most. Having everything go through the hypnos would do that. On the plus side, almost a zero percent chance of anyone hacking in. Although Dick would say that Tim and Barbara could do it.  
“Loud and clear. Everyone back at HQ, you good?” Dick thought he was hysterical. Tiger would beg to differ. There was no response, although they knew that someone back at HQ probably would have to look through the footage.  
The plan was simple enough. When you get to an area to look for evidence, do a perimeter check, then some more snooping around. Check in with your partner every fifteen minutes to relay status and location, sooner if you find something important. If he was still doing this with Batman, Dick would be expected to bring any evidence in so they could use the forensics equipment in the lap. Their current location lacked all of that, so he’d have to make do with the field equipment Spyral had provided them with.   
Nothing noteworthy turned up at any of the first houses Dick checked out. Three houses, and nothing suspicious about them. No automatic lights either, thank god. He checked for everything he could think of. Footprints, scuff marks, signs that anyone was dragged away. He’d go through the trash as well, but apparently it had been picked up recently, taking any evidence it might have contained along with it. And as going inside would have to wait for another day, that’s all he’d be able to do for now.   
The second check in happened as he was en route to the fourth house, Tiger’s voice crackling in his ear. “I’ve found nothing. 37?”  
“Same as you. Approaching fourth house. I’ll let you know if there’s anything there. Shouldn’t be too long before we can sweep the school.” The comms shut off, leaving Dick with only the sound of the wind and his blood rushing through him. Ah, adrenaline, his old friend. He was a bit of an addict when it came it. The energy, the excitement, probably why he did at least fifty percent of the stupid shit he does. Leaping off buildings, going after bad guys, doing everything without a safety net.

Sometimes people wear their hearts on their sleeves. And as Dick reached up into the gutter, sometimes people hide their personal secrets outside. It would have been a genius hiding spot, if not for the fact that Dick was a genius. This was the only gutter not working, as all the others had water trickling out. Leftovers from the afternoon’s showers. That, and the fact that someone had obviously been moving it.   
“Agent 1, I got something. Some papers, actually. I’ll send you photos.” Grabbing his phone, Dick hoped that the dim light would be bright enough. He took a picture of the first page, skimming it. Something about a girl breaking up? No, the girl’s friend broke up with her boyfriend and so they... something about drugs. Yikes.  
A car appeared down the street and Dick froze, pressing up against the side of the building. “Scratch that, 1. Too much visibility here. I’m going.”   
“Agent 37, don’t just run-”  
“Too late!” If he had the Nightwing suit, he could have been out in a few seconds flat. The mask had a built in camera, it was darker in color so there’d be less of a chance that he’d be seen, everything would be easier. But he didn’t have that luxury. He wasn’t in Gotham, he wasn’t Nightwing, he had to play along with Spyral and their rules. Sure, because of them he had Hypnos, and that was useful so long as he didn’t overuse it. They had told him about “two brain scramble” and “post mental interrogation trauma” when he got the implants, and he had kinda forgotten what those were, but knew enough to know to avoid them.   
By the time the headlights shine on the gutter where he had been, Dick was three houses down, securely hidden between the chimney and a sloped roof, checking his map again. If he cut through the woods, it’d take him to the next house in almost a straight line. Plus, someone could have hidden something there. God knows he’d been on too many missions in forests and woods and parks. He thought back to some of the times he’s fought Poison Ivy and found himself longing for the simplicity again. Ivy would be a lot easier to deal with than whatever this was.  
God, this life was terrible for Dick. Same with everything ever, actually. Whatever force dictated his life would have a lot to answer for. He had loved the circus, but when his parents died, he had to give that up. Then he became Robin, but Gotham was suffocating, and the hole in his heart was filled with violence and paranoia. He was just a child, and Bruce was teaching him how to survive. Not how to live. So he left, became Nightwing, couldn’t shake any of his old habits. Still listening to Bruce and letting that maniac decide how he should live his life.  
Dick couldn’t remember the last time he had let himself rest. It was constant, this line of work. Throw yourself into danger over and over again and hope that you can get back up at the end. Because when you put on a mask, you sign away your life. You go until you die, and even then you can’t rest. A lot of heroes have been brought back and continue on. Jason was brought back and became the Red Hood, and that came with a whole lot of other problems that he never signed up for.  
Enough with reminiscing and wishing. He didn’t have time for that. Launching off from the roof, he clears the house’s back porch, rolling to absorb the impact as he lands on the grass. He takes off as soon as he’s back on his feet, staying low as he makes his way to the trees. 

“Hey, Agent 1, we’ve got a situation.” Dick stops halfway through his walk, staring at the sight in front of him.  
“37, I swear, if I have to save you ag-”   
It wasn’t a fight. It was so much worse.   
“There’s a dead body.” He can hear Tiger muttering in some other language in his ear before confirming that he’s on the way. That doesn’t matter. What matters is the girl in the woods, neck and chest slashed by what looks like claws. Definitely dead. A wild animal? There shouldn’t be any bears or wolves here. Anything else he could think of would be too small to do such damage.  
A stick cracks and he whirls around, grabbing his escrima sticks before taking in what made the noise. It’s another girl, who couldn’t be more than ten. She’s dirty and bruised and minorly scratched in places, but not hurt. Dick drops the stick, kneeling down to try and make himself approachable. “Hey, I’m here to help. I’m not going to hurt you. Come here.”  
The girl practically flings herself into his arms, sobs wracking her small body. In between cries, he can make out some words. Her sister. After a minute he’s able to pry her off a bit, staring into her eyes. “I’m sorry about your sister. Now, I need you to tell me exactly what happened here. Can you do that?” There’s a wave of nausea as he activates the Hypnos, but it’s nothing he can’t push down. Right now, he needs to focus.  
“She said we was gonna see her friends. That they have lots of candy, and I could eat all I want if I went with her. Said I had to take my stuff, but I could take my Dolly with me. Then, we were walking, and out of nowhere, there’s a- a blur. She told me to hide, so I went into the bushes over that way with Dolly. Then, she-” He shouldn’t force her to talk. The Hypnos drops, and the crying continues. With the girl clinging to him, he waits for Tiger to arrive.  
He doesn’t have to wait long. Within a few minutes, Tiger’s running towards him, dropping his gun the moment he sees the girl. “37, what’s going on here?”  
“Same last name as the boy taken from the house I was just about to check on. His sisters. Running away from home when they were attacked by a blur. She couldn’t see any features. I’m guessing they were running from abusive parents but I can’t be certain. We’ve gotta get her to the cops.” Dick’s holding her closely, rubbing her shoulders to try and comfort her. “CPS is gonna get involved, but we can’t as civilians, and I don’t like it, but-”  
“I understand. Our phones can’t be traced, it’ll be anonymous. Don’t worry. Can you get her to forget us?” Tiger starts making the call as Dick nods, picking the girl up. He doesn’t know her name, but that doesn’t matter. It’d probably be all over the papers by tomorrow. It’s easy to spot the bush she had hidden in, with the small stuffed rabbit under the branches. He sets her down gently, sweeping a few leaves out of the way.  
“I need you to do something for me, okay? I need you to forget about my partner and I. You hid here, and then you fell asleep accidentally, and we never showed up. You got that?” The nausea this time is worse, but he stays strong.  
The girl curls up on the ground, murmuring something that he can’t make out. She’s asleep probably before she finishes her sentence. Tiger’s finished the call and turns to Dick, staring at him. He can easily see how he’s feeling, Dick can’t hide it. He’s sad, hurt, frustrated, and Tiger can’t even hope to understand what’s going through his mind. Deaths still affect him more.   
They had done enough for the first night. “Let’s go home.” Tiger suggests, and Dick doesn’t say anything as he follows him back through the woods. Somehow, the silence is worse than any joke he could have come up with.


End file.
